The young inventor looked at the boat as it came into view.  It needed but a glance to show that it was not the Carlopa.  Then, as it came nearer, Tom saw a familiar figure in it—­a red-haired, squint-eyed chap.

“Andy Foger!” exclaimed Tom.  “He’s got a motor-boat!  This is the surprise he spoke of.”

The boat was rapidly approaching him, and he saw that it was painted a vivid red.  Then he could make out the name on the bow, red streak.  Andy was sending the craft toward him at a fast rate.

“You needn’t think you’re the only one on this lake who has a gasoline boat!” called Andy boastfully.  “This is my new one and the fastest thing afloat around here.  I can go all around you.  Do you want to race?”

It was a “dare,” and Tom never took such things when he could reasonably enter a contest.  He swung his boat around so as to shoot alongside of Andy and answered: 

“Yes, I’ll race you.  Where to?”

“Down opposite Kolb’s dock and back to this point,” was the answer.  “I’ll give you a start, as my engine has three cylinders.  This is a racing boat.”

“I don’t need any start,” declared Tom.  “I’ll race you on even terms.  Go ahead!”

Both lads adjusted their timers to get more speed.  The water began to curl away from the sharp prows, the motors exploded faster and faster.  The race was on between the arrow and the red streak.

CHAPTER VIII

OFF ON A TRIP

Glancing with critical eyes at the craft of his rival, Tom saw that Andy Foger had a very fine boat.  The young inventor also realized that if he was to come anywhere near winning the race he would have to get the utmost speed out of his engine, for the new boat the bully had was designed primarily, for racing, while Tom’s was an all-around pleasure craft, though capable of something in the speed line.

“I’ll be giving you a tow in a few minutes, as soon as my engine gets warmed up!” sneered Andy.

“Maybe,” said Tom, and then he crouched down to make as little resistance as possible to the wind.  Andy, on the contrary, sat boldly upright at the auto steering wheel of his boat.

On rushed the two motor craft, their prows exactly even and the propellers tossing up a bulge in the water at their sterns.  Rapidly acquiring speed after the two lads had adjusted the timers on their motors, the boats were racing side by side, seemingly on even terms.

The red streak had a very sharp prow, designed to cut through the water.  It was of the type known as an automobile launch.  That is, the engine was located forward, under a sort of hood, which had two hinged covers like a bat’s wings.  The steering-wheel shaft went through the forward bulkhead, slantingly, like the wheel of an auto, and was arranged with gasoline and sparking levers on the center post in a similar manner.  At the right of the wheel was a reversing lever, by which the propeller blades could be set at neutral, or arranged so as to drive the boat backward.  Altogether the red streak was a very fine boat and had cost considerably more than had Tom’s, even when the latter was new.  All these things the young owner of the arrow thought of as he steered his craft over the course.